


criminal tongues conspire against the odds

by graceless_wolf



Series: 30 Day AU Challenge: Jehan/Bahorel [3]
Category: Les Misérables (2012)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Spies, Other, nb!Jehan, nonbinary!Jehan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-14
Updated: 2014-06-14
Packaged: 2018-02-04 16:23:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1785580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/graceless_wolf/pseuds/graceless_wolf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Third door on the right. Now, it should be locked, but if you—”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Got it.” Jehan says, obviously smug, as the lock clicks and the heavy door swings open silently. “I didn’t even need you to break it down this time.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Hey, that mission was time sensitive and--”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“—and the door was stubborn. Yes, ‘Rel, I know.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Please go on a date with me.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	criminal tongues conspire against the odds

Bahorel really, really hates his job.

 

He knows, logically, that Jehan is a trained agent and knows exactly what they’re doing. He also knows, perhaps not quite as logically, that until Jehan is back at HQ with a camera full of incriminating evidence against the mark and that ridiculously smug look on their face, Bahorel’s hands aren’t going to stop shaking, his foot isn’t going to stop tapping, and he isn’t going to be able to _relax._

 

“Agent, you do know that if this mission goes awry, you won’t make it back in time for our date tonight.”

 

“Three things, actually: one, props on using the word ‘awry’ correctly; two, this mission will be fine, because you aren’t here, so I can actually do my job without worrying about you punching a civilian; and three, for the last time, we don’t have a date tonight.”

 

Bahorel sighs, knowing Jehan hears him loud and clear. He doesn’t even need to focus the cameras they’ve got on the agent to know that Jehan has Bahorel’s favorite look on their face. Eyebrows brought together and down slightly, mouth a crooked and pressed line, nose scrunched. Bahorel calls it the ‘I Don’t Know Why I’m Still Working Here’ face. It’s more than a little adorable.

 

“I do _read_ , you know,” Bahorel scoffed, “and that was one time, because they insulted you, and I take our courtship very seriously. Speaking of courtship--”

 

“For the love of God, _not now_ , Bahorel,” Jehan murmurs, before throwing themself back into the party.

 

Bahorel watches the camera’s intently as Jehan weaves their way through the crowd to mingle and chat. They weren’t always good at this part, especially in the beginning, but they’ve gotten better. _Immensely_ better, Bahorel thinks, as he watches Jehan coax a laugh out of a pretty blond in a dark suit. The man leans towards Jehan, and Bahorel just barely sees the flash of ‘what the _fuck_ do you think you’re doing, sir?’ before Jehan composes themself and laughs at whatever the man says.

 

He’s not the mark, but when he gestures to the door behind one of the curtains, Bahorel knows Jehan knew exactly what they’d been doing.

 

“Having fun?” Bahorel asks, when Jehan finally breaks away.

 

“Not at all,” they mutter, walking quickly down the hallway, “Which room was it again?”

 

“Third door on the right. Now, it should be locked, but if you—”

 

“Got it.” Jehan says, obviously smug, as the lock clicks and the heavy door swings open silently. “I didn’t even need you to break it down this time.”

 

“Hey, that mission was time sensitive and--”

 

“—and the door was stubborn. Yes, ‘Rel, I know.”

 

“ _Please_ go on a date with me.” Bahorel says, and he’s only being half-sarcastic. He and Jehan have been partners on this job for four years, and he’s never worked so well with another person before. Before Jehan, anyone he was assigned to work with requested a transfer within a month or two. He knew Combeferre had been tired of filling out that paperwork when xe had introduced Bahorel to a quiet Jehan.

 

“You will make this work,” xe had said, “or I swear to God, Bahorel, I will end your career and possibly your life.”

 

Bahorel thinks he’s made it work pretty well. You know, except for the falling in love with this pretentious asshole thing. Yeah, that probably wasn’t the smartest move on his part.

 

Jehan laughs, a soft, airy sort of noise, and goes back to rifling through the desk. They make quick work of it, finding the file in seconds, and snapping pictures of everything they need.

 

Bahorel watches, amused, as Jehan casually mingles their way through the crowd again, accepting drinks, but never actually drinking them, and makes their way out the door. He still won’t calm completely until Jehan is back at HQ, safe and sound, but the hardest part is over. He doesn’t envy the research team; they’ll be here for a few more hours, breaking down and cataloguing everything Jehan found, but the rest of them get to go home after this.

 

He busies himself with making tea instead of worrying, knowing that Jehan will want some when they get back. This actually isn’t a part of his Grand Plan to Win Jehan’s Heart; he just likes doing things for Jehan, knowing that he’s making some part of this job a little easier.

 

By the time he’s done, Jehan is walking through the door, shucking off their jacket and tie.

 

“I hate that thing,” they mutter, and Bahorel grins.

 

“That’s because it’s not floral, or orange, or – God forbid – _paisley.”_

 

Jehan makes a grateful noise when Bahorel hands them the tea, taking a long sip. When they’re done, they smile up at him, “Hey, we’ve all made our mistakes. Need I remind you of the incident at last year’s Christmas party where—”

 

“No. No, you need not remind me. Please, don’t remind me.”

 

Jehan chuckles, and Bahorel can’t help but smile back at them, and then they’re just standing there smiling at each other and Bahorel doesn’t even care if Jehan never accepts his offer of a dinner or coffee or, once, memorably, a weekend getaway to Tuscany. (Okay, so they did accept that one, but only because it was _actually_ a job.)

 

“Look, Bahorel, about your date--.”

 

“It’s fine, Jehan.” Bahorel says, lips curving up again, “I know when I’m beat, and I don’t want to make you uncomfortable. We’ll just call it a night, yeah?”

 

“I accept.”

 

“What?”

 

Obviously, he’s had too much coffee tonight, it’s the only solution because Jehan can’t have just—

 

“I accept your offer to go on a date. But not tonight, I’m dead on my feet.”

 

It takes him a minute to come down from the shock, but when he does, he has to take a deep breath.

 

“Holy shit,” he whispers, “I never thought that would actually work.”

 

Jehan is smiling at him, their eyes soft and bright, and Bahorel wants to kiss them so much he can feel it like an ache in his chest; like it’s eating away at him.

 

“You do realize that my life is work, and sleep when it’s possible,” Jehan points out, “and that my apartment is decorated in skulls, and I write poetry on the walls when I can’t find paper, and I know how to kill someone in over a hundred very creative ways.”

 

“I realize,” Bahorel says, “You know that I am far too often far too loud, and I rarely know when to stop talking in order to prevent a fight, and I’m dreadfully fond of the fights when they happen, and I also know how to kill someone. In fact, I’m licensed to do so.”

 

Jehan hums thoughtfully, “Funnily enough, so am I.”

 

\--

 

 When Jehan kisses him after their date, they smell like flowers and red wine and gunpowder.

 

Bahorel really, really loves his job.

**Author's Note:**

> this one is shorter than the others, and i may have skipped day three. sorry!!
> 
> say hey on tumblr @coeurfeyrrac


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